Free Verse

You expect me to be

Your perfect image

Of who I should be.

And it’s all good,

And it’s all cosy,

In your head;

Because I do admit

To playing the part—

For a while I did become

A perfect portrait for your wall.

But now no more

I keep up this act.

I write this in free verse

For its freedom that I crave—

Freedom from perfection,

Freedom to be imperfect,

To embrace my flaws,

And respect my space.

Maybe it is just a phase…

Maybe it is not…

I’d rather not say

For fear of the future.

And yet I know

That I’m longer the person

That I was yesterday

And will change again

The following day.



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